


All We See Is Sky For Forever (Adopted By DEH)

by iwillsingnorequiem3



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Actors, Adoption, Anxiety, Broadway, Dear Evan Hansen References, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hamilton References, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Musicals, Other, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillsingnorequiem3/pseuds/iwillsingnorequiem3
Summary: Isabelle has spent her whole life moving house to house, family to family, school to school while in the foster care system.  Through it all, she has stuck by one rule: don't get close to anyone.  She can't risk letting herself believe that life can get better only for it to fall apart again.  But in a strange turn of events, Isabelle finds herself adopted by the cast of the hit Broadway musical Dear Evan Hansen and is given the opportunity the change her life for the better.  Will Isabelle let the DEH cast help her, or will she push them away like she's done her whole life?TRIGGER WARNING: This story might include mentions of suicide, self harm, depression, and anxiety.  If you are uncomfortable with any of these topics please do not read.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this (originally on Wattpad) because I really enjoy reading stories where an OC gets adopted by the cast of a musical, but when I went to go read some for the DEH cast I couldn't find very many, so I decided to make my own. This chapter is kind of the intro into the main characte and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: The main character has a panic attack at the end of the chapter that I thought I should warn you about. I've never written about a character with anxiety and panic attacks, so I'm not sure if I wrote it accurately. Please let me know in the comments what I can do to make the scene better if there's something wrong. I'm always trying to improve my writing!

March 13, 2017

~~~~~

Isabelle Nolan.

Isabelle Smith.

Isabelle Hughes.

Isabelle Kennedy.

Isabelle Fraser.

Isabelle McClain.

Isabelle Browne.

Isabelle Valdez.

Isabelle Thames-Thompson.

And now, Isabelle Crimsen.

I had been through ten foster homes in only ten years. The five years before I was in the foster care system I lived with parents who abandoned me. I don't remember much about them. Only that half of the time they were drunk and the other half of the time they were beating me for no reason. 

Each time I was in a new home I would last long enough to think that I might stay there permanently, and then have my hopes crushed when my social worker showed up and told me to pack my things. After the first two rejections, I just learned to not get attached. It was easier that way. If I didn't let myself get lost in the fantasy that I would ever have a real home, reality hurt a little less.

~~~~~

"Hey, I need that book report done by tomorrow morning," Thomas said to me. He tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. It must be a pretty important book report if he was talking to me at school. He almost never talked to me because it would mess with his "social status" or whatever. I rolled my eyes and slammed the locker door shut. Thomas was technically my foster brother, but I never called him that. I just called him an annoying teenage boy that made me do his homework and not tell his parents that he would sneak out to go drinking with his friends. Notice how I said "his parents" not "our parents". See, no attachments.

"It'll be done," I mutter and straighten my shirt.

"It better be," Thomas said and lowered his voice a little. He leaned closer to my ear and I shivered slightly. "I wouldn't want to know what would happen if it wasn't." Did I mention he and his friends also beat me up for fun sometimes? Well, they do.

I stood frozen still as he backed away, plastering a casual smile on his stupid face. I grit my teeth but still didn't move.

"See you around," he said and turned away to rejoin his group of popular friends. I glared at him for a second as he walked off, before heading to my first period.

School went by quickly and exactly like normal. I sat quietly in the back of all my classes, ate by myself in the lunchroom, and generally avoided any social interaction. Most people think I'm antisocial because I hate people, but that's not necessarily true. I avoid them because most of the time when I move homes I have to switch schools. Having friends at schools I've left behind just causes a load of problems that I don't have time to deal with.

One time, when I was in one of my first foster homes, I had a good friend named Berkley Winters. We would hang out after school, go get ice cream, geek out over Broadway and a million other things. I thought we were as close as two friends could be. But when I switched schools, we hung out less. I had a different schedule than she did, so there weren't a lot of times to get together. Occasionally we would text or call, but soon even that became less frequent when testing season began. We grew further and further apart. A year after I moved, we got together at our old favorite place, an ice cream shop downtown, and I realized how different Berkley was. She had a new group of friends, she loved shopping and social media, and she preferred pop music over show tunes. The fifteen minutes we were there consisted of me attempting at conversation and Berkley checking her phone. I don't really remember exactly what happened after that, but I know that the day ended with me crying myself to sleep and resolving to not waste time trying to make new friends, because it would never work out.

So that's why, as the last period bell rang and the other students flooded out of the school talking with their friends about the latest gossip, I stood alone with my earbuds in, listening to Broadway cast recordings. I refused to let myself get close to anyone.

Sighing, I started the walk to the nearest subway station so I could head home. I turned on "Anybody Have A Map?" from Dear Evan Hansen because that accurately described how I felt when I had to take the Subway. Even after living in NYC for all of my life and taking the same route back from school every day, the complicated Subway map still overwhelmed me sometimes. Actually, it was probably the number of people that made me anxious, and the complicated maps were the cherry on top, but whatever. It was a lame excuse to listen to a great song from a great musical.

When I arrived back at the apartment I lived in, there was no one there. Big surprise. Thomas would typically stay out late with his friends and come back for meals, and my foster parents had work. That was fine with me. I actually preferred being home alone. I had about two hours of time when I knew no one would come barging in, and I could belt out show tunes and have dance parties. The school I was currently at didn't have a drama program and my foster parents didn't want to pay for voice lessons, so those two hours every day were the only time I could practice my singing. Once, I had a foster parent that was a vocal coach. It was the best. We would sing together all the time and she would help me with breath control and other techniques. I actually thought that she might officially adopt me, but her real daughter was diagnosed with cancer and she didn't have enough money to support both of us, so I had to go. I don't blame her- I would have done the same thing in her place- but it still hurts sometimes.

Anyways, I got through the entire Dear Evan Hansen cast album, half of the Spring Awakening cast album, finished my homework, and finished Thomas's book report by the time my foster parents got back.

"Hey," my foster mom, Shelby, greeted me. She was carrying two large bags of groceries and looked slightly out of breath. Her husband, Daniel, was right behind her, very preoccupied with his phone.

"Hi," I said and put down my stuff, offering to help Shelby unload the groceries. She smiled gratefully at me as we put them all where they belonged and began cooking dinner. It was pasta night, my favorite. Shelby tried to make small talk as we worked, as she usually did, and it went something like this:

"How was school?"

"Good."

"Just good?"

"Yup."

"Have any friends?"

"No."

"Are you trying to make friends?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I'm just not."

The truth is, I did know why, but Shelby didn't need to know that.

"You know, high school is a lot easier when you have friends by your side. I wouldn't have been able to make it out sane if I didn't have my best friend, Anna."

"Oh," I say, not knowing how to respond. Sometimes Shelby gets like this. She will ramble about the past and how I should follow her example. I could tell she was just trying to find a way to connect with me. It was very clear that she wanted a daughter that she could bond with. After all, the only kid she had with Thomas, and he wasn't one of those kids who was super close to either of his parents. Still, I knew from the beginning that I wasn't the daughter she was looking for. It was only a matter of time before Shelby noticed that too.

Shelby opened her mouth to ask another question, but just then the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," I said quickly, leaving the noodles I was cooking to answer the door. I walked down the hallway, trying to stay calm. I almost never answered the door because it involved social interaction, but I was desperate to escape Shelby's prying questions, and the opportunity presented itself.

I opened the door to reveal someone I know all too well. My heart dropped a little bit. It was Lydia Merchant, my social worker. She smiled brightly and hugged me. I grimaced and half hugged her back.

"Oh, Isabelle, I've missed you!'" she said and pulled back, beaming. I couldn't say that I felt the same.

"Yeah, you too," I shifted my weight awkwardly. I knew why she was here: to tell me that I am moving again. Really, I should have expected it sooner, but it kind of hurts to know that yet another family doesn't want me. I'm so useless, I think and then shake my head. My therapist told me to try and look on the bright side, so instead, I think: at least I won't have to do Thomas's homework.

"Um, come in," I said and ushered her in. She strode in confidently and I followed her, a ball of nerves in my stomach. Shelby and Daniel didn't look the least surprised to see Lydia and greeted her warmly. I watched from the side and wished everyone would stop acting so happy and like life was perfect. I already knew what was going to happen, they didn't need to drag it out by pretending that it was okay. It wasn't "okay". I was moving. Again. It was a low point in my life, not some celebration deserving of balloons and party cake.

"Something smells good," Lydia commented, making herself right at home and sitting down at the counter.

"Oh it's pasta night," Shelby explained and stirred the noodles.

"I love pasta!" Lydia said.

"So does Isabelle," I sighed. One thing I hated the most about when Lydia came over was that she and whatever adults were fostering me always talked about me like I wasn't there. It was annoying.

I decided to busy myself by setting the table and wondering what kind of family I would have next. Maybe it would be a couple with no kids. Those were always the best in my opinion. My last foster parents were a gay couple. They were nice people and fun to hang around with, but in the end, they decided they didn't want a kid just yet. I understood. A teenage girl is a lot of work and a new couple didn't need that kind of stress.

Soon dinner was served and we were all sitting down at the table, getting ready to eat. Thomas still hadn't arrived home, and I could tell that Shelby was starting to get nervous. However, she kept smiling because there was a guest and when there was a guest you had to pretend that things were great.

"This is delicious," Lydia exclaimed after tasting her food. I rolled my eyes. Shelby and Daniel didn't know this, but that was the first line Lydia always used when she ate dinner with my foster parents. In her mind, it was the best conversation starter, even though I'm pretty confident Lydia can start up a conversation about anything.

"Why thank you," Shelby smiled. "Isabelle helped make it too, you know."

"Oh really?" Lydia turned to look at me, and at that moment I wished I was invisible. I hated it when I was the center of attention unless I was on the stage, of course. "I didn't know you liked to cook, Isabelle." she took another bite.

"Um, yeah, it's okay I guess."

"Well, that's good." The table was silent for a second.

"Anyways, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here, Isabelle," Lydia said. I had to give it to her, she was an expert at getting straight to the point. As much as Lydia annoyed me sometimes, I still understood that finding a place for me was her job, and she was just trying to do it right. I couldn't really blame her for that.

"Um, yeah," I mumbled. Lydia knew that I knew why she was here, but we had to sound professional.

"Well, I've talked to Shelby and Daniel Crimsen, and we have collectively decided that we don't think this home is the right fit for you. You don't seem to be connecting with anyone in the Crimsen family, and you've been having difficulties making friends at school."

I was expecting those exact words (Lydia used the same speech every time I moved), but I couldn't stop the feeling of sadness that flooded over me. There was something heartbreaking about knowing that nobody wanted me and I was still as worthless as I was when my parents left me behind all those years ago.

"Well, I was reviewing your papers, and this is your tenth foster home. Am I correct?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling extra nervous. This wasn't part of the usual speech.

"And you just turned fifteen?"

I nod again.

"Well, you see, it's very hard to find foster parents within the city limits that want to foster a fifteen-year-old girl with a record like yours," Lydia said, very matter-of-fact. I felt sick to my stomach.

"But, you found one, right?" I said quietly. Lydia swallowed. For once her brave facade cracked.

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" I was on the verge of screaming or crying. I wasn't sure which one. "What does 'not exactly' mean?"

"We were unable to find a good home for you in the city, but we did find one in Newburgh. It's about an hour and a half away and-"

"No!" I stood up and shouted. Lydia, Shelby, and Daniel all stared at me in shock. I almost never yelled like this, at least not in front of them.

"No," I said, quieter, my voice trembling. "no, I'm not leaving New York City. This is my home. I've lived here all my life. You can't make me leave."

"Isabelle, I'm really sorry," Lydia said. I could tell she actually meant it, but I didn't care anymore. There was no way anyone could take me away from the city. It was where I grew up. It was the only place I had ever felt at home. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

"I'm not leaving!" I scream in her face.

"Isabelle, please, work with me here," Lydia begged, but it was too late. My anger was exploding, and there was no stopping it. I didn't even know what I was saying anymore, I just needed to say something to convince them to let me stay.

"Look, Lydia, I'm really sorry that you failed your job and couldn't find me a foster home, but I shouldn't have to suffer from your incompetence!" I spit out. Lydia looked like she had been slapped. I had never talked to her like that before. I had never talked to anyone like that. Her lower lip trembled and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. I had never seen Lydia cry before. It sent me into a moment of shock, and I took a step back and surveyed the scene. Shelby and Daniel were watching, wide-eyed, from the side. They looked frozen in terror. Lydia was about to start sobbing. Everyone here was either angry with me, hurt by me, or scared of me. I was the cause of all their pain. I couldn't believe myself. Why did I have to be so stupid all the time? It was no wonder why no family in all of NYC wanted me. I was just a dumb kid that let out her anger on other people.

The room was silent for a long moment, with the exception of Lydia's quiet sobbing. I didn't know what to do, so I did what I did best in social situations, I ran. I kicked my chair out of the way and bolted out of the kitchen. I'm pretty sure someone was screaming at me to stop, but I didn't pay attention. I fled to my room and grabbed the first things I could see and stuffed them into my backpack. When it was full of everything I needed, I left my room and headed to the front door. Lydia had apparently stopped crying and had regained her composure, because she was standing in front of the door, blocking it.

"Isabelle, please, let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said shortly and shoved past her.

"Isabelle! Running away isn't the answer. We'll find you a good home, I promise!"

I tuned her out as I stormed out of the apartment and into the fresh nighttime air.

"You'll be back!" she yelled. "You'll realize that you need a place to go and I'm the only one who can help you!"

I sincerely doubt that. I was finally free. No more foster families. No more social workers. No more hurt. No more pain. No more moving. No more people telling me where to go and how to live my life.

I walked down the street, enjoying the feeling of freedom and the gorgeous sights of the city. I had never really appreciated it before because I was busy doing other things, but NYC was pretty at night. The tall buildings were framed by the sun dipping below the horizon. You couldn't really see the stars because of the chemicals in the sky, but the city made up for it with flickering lights everywhere. There weren't a ton of people walking around because it was getting dark out, which was fine by me. I put on my earbuds and played Dear Evan Hansen. I had already listened to it once today, but you could never listen to too much Dear Evan Hansen.

After wandering around aimlessly for about an hour, I somehow found myself in front of the Music Box Theater. I guess listening to Dear Evan Hansen led me to the theater it was performed in. I had never seen the musical live because no foster parent ever wanted to or could take me. I did watch a bootleg online, though. I figured that I would never see it anyway, so watching bootlegs of my favorite shows never made me feel that guilty. Of course, I respect the actors and techies and writers of a musical and if I ever got the privilege to see a musical live and someone was filming, I would punch them in the face, but that doesn't mean I wish theater was more accessible. Besides, the bootleg quality was terrible.

As I stood in front of the theater just appreciating the beauty of it, it suddenly occurred to me that I was needed to sleep at some point, and the decision to run away hit me in the face. All the happiness I had felt thirty seconds ago seemingly vanished into thin air. Where was I going to sleep? Where was I going to get food? Where was I going to go to school? I couldn't go back to my old school because I would be found there, but I also needed an education. All these thoughts swarmed around my head and my legs shook. The lights that had seemed so nice earlier were now harsh and caused my vision to blur slightly. I stumbled into the nearest alley and collapsed against the brick wall of the Music Box, sobbing quietly. Every muscle in my body hurt, and I was having considerable trouble breathing.

"Hey, look who it is," a familiar voice said. I raised my head slowly and saw Thomas standing in front of me. A couple of other boys were standing behind him, grinning maliciously. I gulped. I didn't want to deal with Thomas or his friends right now. Besides, based on the way a few of them were acting, they were probably drunk. And when Thomas was drunk... well, let's just say I would have to put on extra makeup to cover up bruises the next morning. Oh wait, I left my makeup at the house.

"Did you finish my book report?" he smirked.

"Leave me alone, Thomas," I tried to sound firm, but my voice broke, making me sound weak and helpless.

"Aww, that's no way to talk to your brother," Thomas put on a mock pouty face. I just choked back another sob and tried to stop myself from shaking so much.

"You're not my brother," I managed to say. "your parents don't want me anymore."

"They never did really," he said. He bent down and tilted my chin up. His cold eyes stared into mine, but I couldn't look away. He held my face in place. My lip trembled slightly. "No one wants you, Isabelle. You're worthless. But you already knew that, didn't you? You know how much of a failure you are."

Without warning, Thomas removed his hand from my face at a lightning speed and then slapped it. Hard. I was blown back by the force and laid sprawled out on the ground, panting heavily.

"You're so stupid," he jeered. Someone kicked in the side and I rolled over in pain. "Disgusting. You're a freak, you know? Nobody at school likes you. In fact, they probably won't care if you disappeared tomorrow." Another kick. I groaned. "Do you really think anyone cares about you at all? I mean, when was the last time someone told you they love you, or cared about you, or even appreciate that you exist. Oh, that's right, never. Your parents knew how useless you were, that's why they left you. Because of how horrible you are."

"Please stop," I begged him as more of his friends kicked and punched me. I'm pretty sure I was bleeding in a million different places, but I couldn't see because my face was pressed into the brick wall.

"You know what," I could feel Thomas's breath in my ear. "I don't think I'm going to. You need to understand what a waste of space you are. You need to understand that the best thing you can do for yourself and everyone around you is to end it."

At those words, I completely broke down. I was a sobbing, bleeding mess in the middle of an alleyway. Thomas was right, I should just kill myself. There was nothing for me here. I was a broken person with no future and no home.

The boys continued to beat me up. They threw me against the wall, they kicked me repeatedly, they told me again and again how worthless I was, and they tore apart everything in my backpack. I gave back no resistance. I just let them hurt me and numbed out the pain, wishing that it could end. Wishing that someone, anyone cared even a little bit about me.

"Hey!" I heard a voice shout, and suddenly I was dropped on the ground. I hit my head on the hard floor, and my vision started to dim.

"Leave her alone!" the voice shouted. I heard the echoes of footsteps sprinting away before I felt someone's hand on my face.

"Oh my god," the voice said. "I need to get you to the hospital."

A spark of fear jolted through me. If this person, whoever it was, took me to the hospital, Lydia would find me and take me away from my city. I couldn't let that happen.

"No," I tried to say, but the stranger shushed me.

"Laura, come quick! We have to get this girl some help."

"No, no hospital." I grabbed the coat of the person desperately. "Please, please,"

"Okay, okay, no hospital." The voice, which I determined was definitely male, reassured me. I nodded weakly, satisfied, and laid back down.

"But we're going to take you inside and get you some help, okay?"

The voice was softer now. It sounded like it was fading away slowly. I tried to nod or sit up or do something, but I couldn't move. I couldn't see anything. And soon, I couldn't hear anything either. My whole world had gone black, and I lay passed out on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle's life is turned around when she wakes up to the faces of her idols, Ben Platt and Laura Dreyfuss. She is determined to keep her terrible past a secret, but when the cast insists on taking her to the hospital, things get complicated.

March 14, 2017

~~~~~

I woke up on a couch in a blue room. Something about it looked familiar, so I tried to sit up to see more, but my head throbbed. My vision suddenly became very blurry and it was hard to see anything at all.

"Woah, hold on. Don't sit up yet, okay? You hit your head pretty hard." A voice said. It was the same voice from last night. Wait, last night. What happened last night? My memory seemed just about as fuzzy as my vision. I remember lots of yelling and pain and blood... so much blood. The details aren't really there, but I'm pretty sure something happened with Lydia and I... ran away? I tried as hard as I could to bring the memories back, but it only made my head hurt more.

Two strong arms pushed me down gently onto the couch. The person in front of me looked familiar, but for some reason, I couldn't place my finger on who it was.

"How are you feeling?" They asked.

"My head hurts," I said honestly. "so does the rest of my body. And everything I look at is blurry."

"Yeah, you looked pretty beaten up when we found you last night. I wanted to take you to the hospital, but you begged me not too, so we just brought you here. Laura and I spent the night at the theater and took shifts waiting for you to wake up." the voice explained.

Suddenly all the events from the previous night came rushing back to me. Me running away, me getting beaten up by Thomas, me passing out in an alley. I vaguely remember someone trying to help me, but I passed out before I could figure out who they were. I blinked a couple of times to try and identify the person in front of me was, assuming it was the same one who saved me last night. When my vision cleared, I couldn't believe who it was. Standing in front of me, alive and in the flesh, was the legend himself: Ben Platt. I promptly passed out again.

~~~~~

When I finally woke back up, my vision was a bit less clouded and the pain in my head had dulled. For a minute, I wondered if I had only dreamed up seeing Ben Platt, but then I turned my head to the side, saw him sipping coffee from a mug, and realized that it wasn't a dream at all. Ben Platt- my idol and complete inspiration- was sitting across from me. I gasped audibly and stared for a second. He had yet to notice I was awake, which meant that I had time to try and think of something slightly intelligent to say.

What did I say you might ask?

"Y-you're Ben Platt," I stuttered. You couldn't think of anything better to say? I asked myself and cursed silently. You meet Ben Platt, your idol, and the first thing you say is "you're Ben Platt"? Seriously? Ben looked up, surprised that I had woken up, and smiled. He gestured to the wall behind him, where I could make out a giant Dear Evan Hansen poster was hanging. If possible, I was even more shocked.

"I guess you're a Dear Evan Hansen fan, huh?" He asked.

"Ohmygodit'slikemyfavoritemusicalofalltimeIloveitsomuchit'shelpedmegetthroughreallyhardtimesandit'smydreamtoseeitbutit'stooexpensiveand-" I started talking and just couldn't stop. I couldn't believe that I was with the one and only Ben Platt inside the Music Box Theater. It was a dream come true.

"Hey, woah, slow down a second. I can't understand anything you're saying." Ben said and chuckled lightly.

"Sorry," I said apologetically and blushed.

"Don't be," Ben waved the apology off. "Now, can you say that like, five times slower?"

I took a deep breath.

"Dear Evan Hansen is my favorite musical of all time and I love it so much. It's helped me get through really hard times and it's my dream to see it." I said slowly.

Ben smiled. "I'm glad you like the show so much. It's still crazy the amount of support we get from our fans and how many people connect to Evan."

"Wait," I said, thinking about what he said earlier. Didn't he mention Laura? As in, The Laura Dreyfuss? "Did you say something about Laura Dreyfuss?"

"Yup," he grinned. "she's sleeping in her dressing room. I should actually wake her up soon and tell her you're awake."

All I could do was stare in shock for the millionth time that day. I know I should probably be thinking about my injuries or what I was going to do next, but the only thought on my mind is that Ben Freaking Platt and Laura Freaking Dreyfuss spent the night at the Music Box to watch over me, a now homeless nobody. The thought seemed insane, but I had living proof in front of me that it did in fact happen. Somehow that made me extremely happy in these horrible circumstances.

"Anyways," Ben continued. "We are no doctors, but you banged up your head pretty bad when you fell. And your body was covered in bruises and cuts, so we washed the blood and covered you in bandages."

I looked down at my body and noticed that I was wearing a fresh set of clothes and I'm covered in bandages. I'm about to ask where the clothes came from, because they definitely aren't mine, but Ben got there first.

"Oh, all your belongings were ruined, so Laura put you in a spare set of clothes she had. I hope that's okay with you." I nodded numbly. I was wearing Laura Dreyfuss's clothes? That was crazy! I would be seriously fangirling out right now and running around the room if it wasn't for my aching limbs.

"Once you feel better you can fangirl all you want," Ben said and smiled. I frowned and realized that I must have said all that out loud. Oops.

"Hey, Ben is she awake yet?" A sleepy voice asked. I tried to crane my head to see the person, even though I already knew who it was. It was Laura Dreyfuss, like I expected, and she was standing in the doorway of the room. She had clearly just woken up. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes were still full of sleep, and she was wearing cute fuzzy pajamas. But somehow she still managed to look flawless.

"Yeah, she is," Ben said and Laura made her way over quickly.

"Are you alright?" She asked, visibly worried. I'm still not sure why Ben and Laura cared so much about me. I'm just a stupid, worthless girl. They shouldn't waste their time trying to help me. Secretly, I was kind of glad they did because I got to meet them, but I didn't want to be more of a burden than I already probably was.

Both Laura and Ben's face contorted into sadness and pity.

"Don't say that," Laura said softly and squeezed my hand. "You're not a burden. We're happy to take care of you."

I mentally cursed. Why did I keep talking out loud? The presence of these Broadway stars was really messing with my head.

"Now, you are really injured. We need you to let us take you to the hospital, okay? We're really worried that you might have broken something." Laura said.

"Like an arm," Ben added and Laura shoved him playfully.

"I'm fine, really," I try and reassure them. I know they said I wasn't a burden, but actors' lives are busy, and I'm fine on my own. I can take care of myself. After all, it's what I've done all my life.

"No," Laura says firmly. "You're not fine. I'm pretty confident you have a concussion and if we hadn't found you last night you probably would have bled out. That is not 'okay.'"

I tried to sit up to prove that I was okay, but the headache came back and I slumped back onto the couch.

"Just lay still while we call the rest of the cast and get them to meet us here, okay? We'll decide what to do from there." Ben said and picked up his phone. As did Laura. They both made several calls while I sat there, contemplating how to get out of this situation. I couldn't go to the hospital. I just couldn't. I ran away to start new, not to get caught and sent back into the foster care system. I also couldn't run away again because it hurts too much to even stand, let alone run. I could try to talk everyone out of taking me to the hospital, but that would involve telling them my story, and I don't think I wasn't ready to do that yet. I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

"Alright, that's everyone. They should all be here in about twenty minutes depending on how traffic is. In the meantime, I'm going to go get dressed. Then we should order some food and get to know each other." Laura said and made her way to the door. She suddenly stopped and looked back at me."I just realized I haven't introduced myself." she said slowly and facepalmed.

"You're Laura Dreyfuss," I said before thinking. Great, that probably sounded creepy.

"Did Ben tell you?" Laura asked suspiciously, sending Ben the evil eye. He held his hands up in defense.

"She's a DEH fan," he said. It always cracked me up when the actors would refer to their show as "deh". It just sounded funny. I giggled a little and Laura and Ben smiled.

"What's your name?" Laura asked.

"Oh, it's-" I debated briefly about lying. I could tell them a false name that way if they took me to the hospital they wouldn't know my real name. But at the same time, this was probably the only chance I would ever get to talk to these people I adore. I wanted them to remember me by my name. My real name.

"Isabelle." I said

"Just Isabelle?" Laura asked.

"Just Isabelle," I confirmed. I was starting a new life, I reminded myself. Which means no strings attached to the foster care system. That includes getting rid of the many last names I had.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Isabelle. Maybe when you're fit to walk we can give you a tour of the theater." Laura said and disappeared out of the room. I was probably grinning like a maniac, but I couldn't help myself. A tour of the Music Box Theater? That would be incredible.

A few minutes later Laura came back fully clothed with makeup on. She plopped down on a chair opposite mine and whipped out her phone.

"Do you guys want donuts or breakfast tacos?" she asked.

"Yes," Ben said. Laura rolled her eyes.

"That wasn't a yes or no question, Ben. We aren't getting both."

"Why not? I'll pay," Ben said and shrugged.

"You're supposed to be on a diet," Laura argued. Ben's smile flickered for a second. 

"Well, this is a special occasion. I'll be fine." He said.

"You're impossible," Laura said but ordered the food. 

"So, Isabelle, you're a fan of our musical, right?" Laura asked. I nodded and bit my lip, suddenly nervous for no reason. Well, there was a reason. I was talking to the cast of Dear Evan Hansen, which was a great excuse for freaking out.

"Have you seen it?"

"Um... no," Not live anyways. I figured I probably shouldn't tell them about the bootleg. Actors typically frown upon them, and I didn't want them to get the wrong impression.

"But I listen to the cast recording like all the time. It's my go-to playlist whenever-'' cut myself off. I was about to say "whenever I am depressed" but that wasn't information I wanted to share with others. Instead, I said: "-I'm doing homework."

Ben nodded.

"Favorite song?"

"Um," I had to think about that for a second. "Is all of them an acceptable answer?" I asked innocently.

Ben and Laura both laughed. I cracked a smile.

"If I'm honest, it's probably 'You Will Be Found'," I said, but then I thought about it. "But I also like 'Requiem'," I added and shot Laura a smile. " And 'Waving Through A Window'. And 'Sincerely Me'. And 'Words Fail'. Oh, and 'Only Us'. And-" I paused, realizing that I was just listing out the entire score. "You know what, actually, I'm going to stick with my original answer: all of them."

We all started cracking up. Even though it hurt to laugh, I ignored the pain and enjoyed the moment. After all, how could you not be happy while in the presence of Ben Platt and Laura Dreyfuss? We talked for a few more minutes and laughed over just about anything.

"Did I miss something? What's so funny?" A new voice asked. We all looked up to see Will Roland and Mike Faist standing in the doorway, looking confused.

"Oh, you guys are here," Ben said and gestured to me. "This is Isabelle."

"Yeah, we got your call. Is she okay?" Mike sounded generally concerned, while made my heart swell. It still blew my mind that they cared so much about me.

"She seems to be," Ben said. "Anyways, come join us. We were just talking about the time Laura accidentally walked onstage during a scene she wasn't in when she was in high school." Laura buried her face in her hands in embarrassment and we all laughed again.

"Well, Michael, Cynthia, Rachel, and Kristolyn are on their way. They got stuck in traffic." Mike said. "In the meantime, a guy was dropping these off at the stage door." From behind his back, he pulled out a box of donuts and a box of breakfast tacos. Everyone shouted and immediately dug in. Apparently there was a coffee machine in the blue room because Mike made us all coffee. I normally didn't drink coffee, but Mike Faist was making it, so I felt obliged to take it.

We sipped our coffee and ate our food as more cast members slowly showed up. Most of them asked me how I was feeling or other questions about myself. After about ten minutes of just hanging out, everyone had arrived at the theater, and my ball of nerves from earlier started to come back. I knew that because we were all together the topic would shift to what to do with me, and I wasn't prepared for that. There was no way I could tell these nice, generous people all about my troubles. They didn't need to know about my depression, my anxiety, my foster care situation, my decision to run away, or any other horrible event in my miserable life. And even if they did need to know, they wouldn't care, right? No matter how amazing they were, they were just strangers that would forget about me when this was all said and done. Right?

"So," Will said abruptly. "What do we do with the kid?"

I gulped as all eyes turned to me. This was the moment. The room was completely silent.

"Well I think she definitely needs to go to the hospital-" Cynthia began.

"I can't go to the hospital!" I blurted out and mentally slapped myself.

"Can you tell us why not?" Mike asked. His voice was soft and reassuring. I took a deep breath and shook my head slightly. I wasn't ready to be that open.

"Hey," Laura grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. "You got really hurt last night and all of us are really concerned for you. You deserve proper help for all your injuries, and only a doctor can give you that. You have to let us help, or at least tell us why we can't."

I stared at them all for a second and noticed that they actually all looked scared. For me. They were scared for me. The realization hit me like a punch to the stomach. That was probably the closest anyone had ever come to caring about me. I was originally planning on lying to get out of the situation, but now I couldn't make the words come out. I couldn't force myself to look at the faces of people who actually cared and tell them a lie.

"I..." I began but faltered. "I..." Tears threatened to fall. I tried holding them back, but after a few agonizing moments, I gave up and let them come.

"Aww, don't cry," Kristolyn said sadly. "It's gonna be okay."

Laura and Mike both pulled me into a hug and I started crying harder.

"Hey, look at me," Ben said. He looked me straight in the eye. "I get that it's hard to talk about things sometimes. I literally play a character on stage eight times a week that has trouble talking about his feelings. But if there's one thing I've learned from being a part of this show, it's that keeping all your emotions and thoughts tucked away and then lying and saying that you're fine never works out in the end. At some point, you've got to let people help you. You can't do this alone."

I nodded and choked on a few sobs.

"You don't have to tell us everything, but at least let us help you get help, okay?"

I nodded again.

Just breathe, I reminded myself, thinking about the song from In The Heights. The thought alone made me smile slightly. I took a deep breath to clear my head.

Then, I opened my mouth, ready to tell my story for the first time in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you did. They really motivate me to write more!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry if it's kinda long, but I usually write long chapters. Again, please vote/comment if you liked it or if you have suggestions to help me portray mental health better. Thanks!


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